Past Present
by streetlightlove
Summary: The worst thing that could happen to Katniss is to get everything she's ever wanted. Inspired by the movie '13 Going on 30'. Written for round 4/day 7 (envy) of Prompts in Panem. Cover art by Ro Nordmann.


_**Summary: **The worst thing that could happen to Katniss is to get everything she's ever wanted._

_Inspired by the movie '13 Going on 30'_

_Rated M for sexual content and language_

_Lyrics courtesy of Smashing Pumpkins_

_I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its characters._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

May 1999

'_...And our lives are forever changed_

_We will never be the same_

_The more you change the less you feel_

_Believe, believe in me, believe...'_

The dramatic melody of Smashing Pumpkins' "Tonight, Tonight" plays in the background as I sheath Peeta's cock, lowering myself onto his lap. I moan loudly at the familiar feeling of him filling me, becoming one with me. We have been doing this for close to two years now, and each time seems to get better and better.

When I have completely covered his erection, I pull back and open my previously closed eyes, and stare into two pools of blue, made dark by want.

"I love you," Peeta whispers to me before leaning forward to claim my lips. His words cause me to clench around him. His want and need and devotion towards me has always made my knees quake and my panties wet, and in this moment I know he means it. I should say it back, I really should, because I would mean it—not just now, but always.

But I don't, and instead I begin rocking my hips, causing the springs in his bed to creak slightly.

"Fuck," he whimpers against my mouth. "You feel so good," he confesses to me like he has never told me this before, even though it's something he tells me all the time.

"Mmmm." It's all I can manage to articulate as my rocking turns into swift up and down motions and I start to feel myself flutter around him as he hits the right spot each time I slam down.

"Oh god," he breathes as he falls back onto the bed. "Ahh, Katniss I love you so fucking much." His words send me inches from the edge, but before I can fall over, Peeta's hands find my thighs instead and his hips begin thrusting upwards until he grunts loudly as he comes. I continue to rock, hoping I can bring on my own orgasm with just a few more slight pops of my hips, but he halts my movements and looks into my eyes a slight frown on his face.

"You didn't finish?" he asks breathlessly. I shake my head to confirm his suspicions. He quickly sits up, grabs my face, and presses his lips to mine. I taste them with my tongue and find them to be salty, and when his tongue comes out to glide against mine I find that to taste sweet. Suddenly he shifts and I am on my back, with him hovering above me. "Well then let me help you out." He pulls off and discards the filled condom, then gives me a lazy grin before his head dips.

His tongue flicks against my clit and his fingers thrust into me; I just need a little bit more and I'll finish, but just then the phone on Peeta's bedside table rings twice, then once, then twice again, indicating the call is for him, and I lose my focus. Eventually it stops, and I once again let the feel of his mouth sucking on my needy center consume me, but then the phone is ringing again.

"Just ignore it," Peeta growls against my wet folds, and I gasp at the feeling.

Again the ringing stops, and I begin thrusting my hips into Peeta's mouth in hopes of speeding up the process, but then the shrill noise begins again, and I know I'm never going to be able to finish until the sound ends.

"Damn it, Peeta, just answer it." The groan Peeta releases against my clit makes me shiver, but he pulls away, his lips shiny with my arousal, and leans over to pick up the phone.

"Hello," he says gruffly, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration, but his face almost immediately falls. "Ok, yeah hang on she's here." He hands the receiver down to me while mouthing the word, _'Prim.' _I quietly sigh, but quickly take the phone.

"Hey, Prim what's up?" I hear my nine-year-old sister crying on the other line, and I begin to panic. "Prim...Prim what's wrong?" She sniffles twice and clears her throat.

"I heard something. I thought someone was trying to break in the house. And I'm hungry."

"Where's Mom?" I sit up and begin silently mouthing swears into the air.

"I don't know. She's not home, and I haven't had dinner yet."

"Well pour yourself some cereal ok, and I'm sure Mom will be home soon." I glance at the clock; it's 9:30pm. I grit my teeth.

"But the milk's gone, and I'm scared. Can you come home pleeease, just until she gets back?" And then she begins sobbing again and I break.

"Yeah ok, climb into my bed. I'll leave here soon, ok."

"Ok," she sniffles. "Katniss...I'm sorry." More crying.

"It's ok, baby. You don't need to be sorry. I'll be home soon. Alright?"

"Alright, bye."

"Bye." I hand the receiver back to Peeta and pound my fist down into his mattress. "That useless piece of fucking shit," I growl.

"Where is she?" Peeta asks, knowing the situation well enough to know I'm venting about my mother. I shrug dramatically.

"Who the fuck knows? Hopefully she never comes home."

"You don't mean that," Peeta says sadly

"And what if I do?" I challenge. "Huh? What would be so wrong in me wanting that poor excuse for a human being to get the fuck out of my life completely? She can't even manage to come home to feed her kid. She knew I was going to be out tonight, but still... ahhh!" I let my head fall into my hands and take a series of quick and shallow breathes. I feel Peeta at my side, and his arm begins to rub my back gently. The warmth that radiates off of him begins to soothe me.

"I'm sorry." He kisses my temple gently, and I feel myself lean into him. "One day I'm going to open my restaurant, and I'm going to make a shit ton of money and then I'm going to marry you and take care of you for the rest of my life, and I'll make sure you and Prim have everything you want, I promise." Usually this common pledge of Peeta's makes me smile, and his words tend to make the darkness a little less bleak, but today they just irritate me, making the reality of my situation come crashing down around me.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Peeta." I feel him pull away from me.

"What does that mean?" There's an edge to his voice.

"Because in a couple of weeks we are going to graduate and then a few months after that you are going off to college, and eventually you are going to see that me and my problems are just weighing you down and you'll look for someone more appropriate for you." I sigh heavily when Peeta pulls away entirely and gets off the bed.

"What do you think this is? This isn't a fucking game to me, Katniss. I'm in love with you."

"I know, Peeta, I know, but that can change." I rub my eyes with the with the heel of my hands. "I'm not good for you."

"Don't say that," he pleads

"It's true though." I sigh. "I am beyond poor with a drug-addicted mother and a little sister to raise. Not only am I not good enough for you, I obviously don't even have the time to delude myself into thinking this is going to work." I get off the bed myself and begin to get dressed.

"What are you saying?" Peeta's blue eyes stare at me with worry, and the sight makes my stomach do a flip.

"I'm saying..." I can feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I gasp for air. "I'm saying that wish I had more…more money, more time, more of what you deserve in a girlfriend."

"You are everything I could ever want." He places his hands against my cheeks. "I love you, and that isn't ever going to change." I give him an incredulous stare.

"I'm not particularly pretty."

"You. Are. Beautiful." He kisses my forehead.

"And I am too stubborn."

"I like that you're challenging." He kisses the tip of my nose.

"I am basically a teen parent."

"I've always wanted kids." Peeta says before planting a kiss on my lips. I sigh against his mouth feeling my resolve begin to waiver.

"Your parents hate me."

"My mom hates everyone, including me, and my dad likes you... a lot." I pull away from Peeta and stand up, putting distance between us.

"It's just too much, and I don't think I can handle the heartbreak when you realize I'm right."

"Katniss, you're scaring me." He begins to close the distance between us, but I keep backing away. Eventually I shove my hand out in front of me to halt his movements. He stops, but he looks frightened, and my heart aches to know I am hurting him this much, but every insecurity I have had my entire life has flooded my brain and I can't manage to swim my way out.

_It will be better this way,_ I think to myself. _If I do this now, I can save us both so much heartache later. _

"Peeta." I can hear it in my voice that I have given up, and he must also because he begins walking towards me again.

"No." he says breathlessly.

"Peeta I just think it's better if we…."

"Katniss, no, please don't do this." He thrusts his hands into his hair and gives me a manic look. "I know things are hard at home, but I'm here for you. I will always be here for you." I can feel traitorous tears slide down my cheeks. "Can we just sit down and talk, please?" he begs.

And it's what I want to do—to walk into his warm strong embrace this instant and feel the shit in my life fade away until we are the only two left, but it's all so absurd. In what world does perfect Peeta Mellark end up with lowly Katniss Everdeen?

"I just need to think," I mumble to him. He gives me a solemn nod, and I turn to leave out his window. It is then I realize I probably have about enough change to make a phone call in my pocket. I grit my teeth, as more tears—this time they are out of frustration—run down my face.

"Can I borrow some money? I need to get milk." I bite my lip, humiliated to have to beg for money to feed my family and that I don't have enough to do it myself and the worst part, of course, being that this is so common a request that Peeta doesn't even blink an eye before he retrieves his black wallet that's attached to a metal chain from his desk.

He thumbs through the bills and pulls out a twenty. My eyes widen at the sight of it. Peeta has never wanted for much. That's not to say his life is perfect. His mother is an absolute nightmare, and he works long hours at his family's bakery, but he never has to worry where his next meal comes from or about clothes or the roof over his head, and of course his father pays him for ten hours worth of work what I barely scrape by in 30 at my job.

Of course I would want nothing less for Peeta. I love him, even if I haven't managed to tell him yet, and I want him to be happy and safe and healthy, but a little selfish voice in the back of my head tends to wonder why not me too?

He hands me not one, but two twenty-dollar bills, and I suck in a sharp breath.

"No, Peeta," I protest. "It's too much."

"Please take it," he insists. "Think of it as my present to you since I couldn't finish giving you the other one." My eyes flit down to my real present from him, a white gold charm bracelet with three charms, a heart, a bow and arrow, and a dandelion—my favorite flower. He takes the arm I'm looking at and presses the bills into my palm.

"Thank you," I whisper. I don't want to take the money, but I would be a fool not to, because if it isn't milk, it will be something else. I swing my leg over the windowsill until my foot finds the trellis that I will climb down on.

"Katniss," he says my name so gently, treating it with so much love that my heart begins to sting in my chest. I turn to look at him, and I can see he is as sad as I am. "Happy Birthday," he mutters softly. I nod quickly and begin to climb down.

Once my feet hit the grass below I run to my bike—which I have leaning against the side of the Mellarks' shed—and when I am on the seat I ride as fast as I can away from the house before Peeta does something crazy like try to follow me.

I am just turning down the road that leads to the area of town called 'The Seam'— which is filled with drug-front convenience stores and section 8 housing—when I hear an annoying tone come from the pocket of my black hoodie. I stop my bike, and retrieve the cell phone that Peeta insisted I have—that he pays for—ever since that time six months ago when I was sick with the flu and our house phone was shut off and Peeta couldn't get in touch with me. It had been a major fight between us, but in the end when he explained it was more for his piece of mind than charity—which I take too much of from Peeta—I eventually relented. I glance at the screen to see my friend Madge's phone number on the front screen.

Madge Undersee was my first real friend growing up. After my dad died and things got bad, she never cared that I was poor, even though she came from one of the richest families, and she never cared that my clothes were dirty and threadbare even though she had a closet full of designer clothes.

Madge is beautiful and kind, and smart, and doesn't take shit from anyone. She is also the one who set Peeta and me up. She had insisted that Peeta had a crush on me since we were young, and even though I had a crush on him as well, I couldn't believe it was true. It wasn't until she marched Peeta up to me and stood there until he asked, and I accepted his invitation to our sophomore social that I finally decided to believe.

She's my best friend, and I love her dearly, but there is always that part of me that hates that she is in my life. After all, she is blonde with big tits and soft curves and legs that go forever. She is also rich and the daughter of the mayor. I can't help it, but I find a lot of the time, especially lately, I have seethed with jealousy because of it.

This all started a few months back when the three of us were at a Friendly' waitress had assumed that Peeta and Madge were the couple and asked how long they had been together. Everyone laughed except for me when the waitress was informed that I was in fact the wrestling champ's girlfriend. I spent the rest of the night studying the two of them. They _would_ make a gorgeous couple. Madge would be a good match for Peeta. She would make an amazing girlfriend and a lovely wife. She would give him beautiful towheaded children. He would never have to deal with the baggage he has had to with me, never have to lend her money or feed her with bread he stole from his family's bakery, or pay a monthly bill on a cell phone because her crackhead mom can't hold down a job.

So ever since that night—unbeknownst to Madge—cracks have started to form in our friendship. When I see her, I resent her, and when I go to bed everynight, I pray to be her. But every morning I just wake up as...me.

I flip open the small silver phone and place it to my ear.

"Hello." I sigh.

"Katniss…" She takes a pause as I remain silent. "Katniss, Peeta just called me." I roll my eyes.

"Of course he did." I lower my voice in an attempt to impersonate my boyfriend. "My girlfriend is a fucking whack job, better call and tell everyone."

"Katniss," she snaps. "That's not fair. He's worried about you. He thought you broke up with him."

"I almost did," I whisper.

"Why?" Her voice is heavy with disbelief.

"Because I am never going to be good enough to be with him."

"But you are with him, Katniss. He wants to be with you. He loves you. Why is that so hard to believe?" I ignore her comment, but begin to feel sadness and guilt build up in my gut.

"Was he really worried?" I don't want to hurt Peeta, but it seems like it's all I do lately. I love him so much that sometimes I get dizzy just at the thought of him. I love him, so much that sometime just the smell of him—a mix between cinnamon and Old Spice—causes a lump to form in my throat, I love him so much that the thought of him being sad or hurt tears a hole in my heart.

"Of course he was worried," Madge mutters into my ear. "I just don't see why you do this to him," she says sternly. "He was a mess when I talked to him." Her words make me see red.

"Well why don't you just go comfort him then?" I hiss.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yells making my ears ring. "You are so busy worrying that people are going to leave you that you are pushing everyone away." I hear her take a deep breath. "I love you, Katniss. You are my best friend, but if you don't stop this self-loathing bullshit and wake up and realize you have so many people who love and care about you, one day you are going to wake up alone." Then the line goes dead. Tears of anger spring to my eyes as I shove the phone back into my pocket and hop back on my bike riding as fast as I can.

My eyes are blurry with tears so I don't catch sight of the fat, matted orange cat that bolts in front of my bike until it's right in front of me and I am flying over my handlebars. The first thing I feel is the sharp pain in my head as it slams against the concrete, then the warmth that spreads over the entirety of my skull, and then everything goes numb, then black.

* * *

The first thing I register as I try to wake is the bright light that is shining into my barely opened eyes. I know I am in a hospital. My gut begins to churn with anxiety when I instantly try to figure out how we are going to pay for my medical treatment since I don't have any medical insurance to speak of.

The bed I lie on is softer than what I imagined a hospital bed would feel like, and the blankets are warm, but it does nothing to ease the pounding headache I have. I wonder to myself if it's selfish to call a nurse to get something to ease the pain knowing that it will add to the cost of my stay.

I decide the pain, which is accompanied by nausea, is too great and I push myself up to a seated position and move to my side to try and find a call button, but when my eyes finally open enough to take in my surroundings I gasp and my heart leaps into my throat. I realize I am not in a hospital, but a bedroom, a swanky one, but more importantly, an unfamiliar one.

When I lift up the dark green comforter, and the soft and thick cotton sheet I squeak out loud. I have nothing on but a black lacy thong that does not belong to me.

"Oh my god!" I mumble to myself as I scramble out of the bed. I notice a cup of orange juice and two Advil on the end table, but even though my arid mouth yearns for the sweet refreshing elixir and my pounding head demands the two round brown pills, I don't trust anything right now.

Once my feet have hit the floor, my hands ball into fists, ready to lash out at anyone that may try to attack me. I look around in hopes of finding a weapon of some kind. My eyes land on a black shoe lying on its side on the ground. The heel is longer than any I have ever seen and could easily blind an attacker. I rush to pick it up, and once it's in my hand I start to feel a little safer… at least for the moment.

I try to locate my clothes, but all I see is what looks like a black-and-white striped dress that had been discarded to the floor by someone…but who?

I see framed photos placed on a small table on the other side of the room. I sprint over, hoping that the pictures will reveal my captor. The first one makes my skin crawl. A guy and girl stand in front of a nondescript gray building, a red ribbon is pulled tightly across the entrance. The girl holds a hunting bow in the air and the guy holds a comically large pair of scissors.

The guy is Gale Hawthorne. He and I used to be good friends; both of our fathers died in the same workplace accident, and it was a good enough reason to bond over. But ever since I had started dating Peeta, he hasn't given me the time of day, not that I've been around for him either. The girl in the picture, however, is what really makes my blood run cold. The girl is me. The bow in my hand looks kind of like one my father would have used, and Gale and I did used to hunt together a few years back, but I have no recollection of this picture being taken.

I move quickly to the next picture, A tall female with long blonde hair wearing a white cap and gown holds a rolled up piece of paper in her hand. She grins happily at the camera, and the expression looks like one I have seen Prim wear a million times. I shiver at the thought.

The third frame is the most elaborate. It's silver and has the word 'Always' engraved right above where the picture sits. The black and white photo is of a bride and a groom, but when I look at the couple, my breath catches in my throat. There I stand in a simple wedding dress with a crown of flowers in my free-flowing hair. The groom is leaning in to me, his arm encircling my waist, kissing me on the cheek, all the while looking at the camera out of the corner of his blue eyes.

"Peeta." I whimper his name as my fingers touch the glass that covers his face. His blond hair has fallen into his eyes, and he looks so happy, almost as happy as I look in the picture. My smile is so wide as I look into the camera I'm surprised it doesn't take up the entire frame.

_What's going on here? Have I completely lost it? Did I do drugs? _I wrack my brain, trying to come up with an explanation to my apparent hallucination, but I come up empty. I decide I need to explore what is outside the room, but first I need clothes.

I spot what looks like a closet and rush over to it, flinging the double doors open in haste, and what I see makes me scream.

In front of me sits a vanity with various perfumes, brushes and makeup. Attached to the vanity is a very large mirror, but the reflection in it is not me. I mean, it is me, but different. I look like an older version of myself. My breasts are bigger than I remember and barely fit my still slender body, however my curves are a bit softer. Dark bags hang under my weary eyes, and my face has the remnants of makeup smeared all over it. But what is the most startling is how short my hair is. My hand reaches up to touch the disheveled black do that barely hangs down to my chin. I touch it nervously and find it is thick and sticky with product. I pull my hand away quickly as if I was burnt.

My breath is coming rapidly now, and I know I am about to be sick. I quickly reach for a small wastebasket that sits on the floor next to the vanity—which is filled with lipstick-stained tissues—and violently vomit into it. Once I am done, I lift my weary head and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I turn to look at myself in the mirror again.

"What the fuck!?"

* * *

_I am planning on having this written enough to continue publishing in October/November so I hope you'll be interested in reading it! :). Just a fair warning... This is going to be a rough one! _

_Thank you to 'The Title Whisperer' Court81981 for naming this story, along with taking great care of it and me along the way._

_Also thanks to Pookieh and HGRomance for helping me through my pre publication jitters! _

_And of course a thank you to Peetaspeenis (Misshoneywell) for running yet another stellar PiP!_

_Visit me on Tumblr: Streelightlove1_

_Thanks for reading!_


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